After unleashing the Azure Solar Eclipse against Geomjeol, Jeong Yeon-shin succumbed to exhaustion.
Martial techniques manipulate the body and internal energy in unprecedented ways. Such destructive maneuvers inevitably demand a price. A single-strike kill technique always comes with recoil.
Following his duel with Geomjeol, the boy's swordsmanship lost much of its dynamic edge.
Subsequent opponents after the battle with Tian Zhu-jin were defeated using the Jeong Family’s Dynamic Gong. It required forcibly contracting, stimulating, and expanding his acupoints and muscles.
Naturally, this caused considerable stiffness in the tendons across his body. He could no longer fully sustain the flow of Luminous Method Wheel Qi.
Fortunately, no opponent of Geomjeol's caliber had appeared since the battle with Tian Zhu-jin.
The martial world is a realm bound by grudges and bonds. A warrior must always be prepared for ambushes.
Walking along the bustling highway, where countless travelers passed, Jeong Yeon-shin had no choice but to hone his senses.
This practice, called Sensory Path by martial artists, was a form of training. Since leaving the Menghui headquarters, Jeong Yeon-shin had been circulating his Luminous Wheel Qi through his cranial acupoints.
And so he heard it.
A martial artist of immense power was evaluating Tae Yeom-ryong.
"Standing there like a cat poised to pounce. Intriguing boy. Would you care to join me for a drink? I am Eon Hwayeon."
The voice was slightly hoarse, and the pronunciation wasn’t entirely clear.
Jeong Yeon-shin keenly perceived the murmurs of this supreme master—a woman with a voice resembling that of a drunken reveler.
Although she seemed to be addressing someone else, it was unmistakably meant for him.
The boy’s lips parted slightly.
"Let’s go up," he said.
"As you wish," replied Tae Yeom-ryong, his expression turning peculiar. His keen instincts were as sharp as a ghost's.
The pulse between his ears and eyes beat faintly red, and the flow of internal energy at the Taiyang Acupoints near his temples was pronounced.
The Blazing Sun Qi manipulated by Hwangbo So Ga-ju naturally drew attention wherever it went. The countless people on the road cast furtive glances their way.
From the moment they had left the Murim Menghui headquarters, Tae Yeom-ryong had walked confidently, oblivious to the attention.
He, too, was aware of Jeong Yeon-shin’s physical condition.
It wasn’t something the boy could be solely responsible for. Even though fine control of internal energy consumed significant mental focus, Tae Yeom-ryong had already heightened his sensory acuity, assuring Jeong Yeon-shin it was safe to let his guard down.
The Blazing Sun Meridian's energy was said to surge endlessly, burning away one’s lifespan to replenish itself. This inherent trait allowed it to clear obstructed pathways in the body and fill them with blazing internal energy. In terms of energy reserves alone, it surpassed that of the Ipwang Fortress Lord.
‘I may be a bit slower, that’s all,’ Tae Yeom-ryong thought, smirking slightly.
You're just a little slower. Jeong Yeon-shin’s words from the Yongbong Gathering echoed in his mind. Now, he couldn’t deny it.
With a soft swish, the doors to Cheonghakru opened.
Renowned as the finest tavern and inn in Hanzhong, its well-oiled hinges moved without a sound, revealing the scene inside.
Rows of orange lanterns cast a warm glow, patrons clinked glasses noisily, snacking on appetizers, and the open space rose upward in a square layout to the second floor.
All eyes, habitually scrutinizing newcomers, turned toward the two individuals entering. And froze.
"......."
Silence fell over the room, filled with merchants and martial artists alike.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s air of nobility, honed as the most powerful scion of Shandong’s aristocracy, was unmistakable. Despite his habit of chewing poppies, his shadowed eyes exuded an undeniable grace.
The aura emanating from the Blazing Sun Meridian pressured his surroundings without any intent on his part.
As he stepped leisurely forward, even the rough fabric of his black robe brushing against the threshold seemed as smooth as silk.
"This is likely a first for you, young lord," Tae Yeom-ryong said. "Drinking in a place like this has a certain charm you won’t find in your family’s stiff, boring pavilions."
He smiled languidly, gesturing with one hand to guide the boy.
There was an almost mischievous charm to his demeanor, which somehow suited him.
The rare sight of a young noble escorting a boy stood out.
His black robe, worn and rough from countless battles, had lost its once-smooth polish. In contrast, Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair gleamed with its natural sheen.
"Those two are..."
"I’ve seen them before. Surely?"
People began murmuring. Such scenes were commonplace in Hanzhong’s bustling streets.
The boy was a strikingly young swordsman with an unusual appearance. His distinctive long black robe had its left sleeve torn off, leaving only the right sleeve extending fully. A small white Hwang character was embroidered on his shoulder.
Jeong Yeon-shin was wearing a spare robe belonging to Ma Jin, a replacement after losing his martial attire to the attacks of Tian Zhu-jin.
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The loose-fitting robe was more comfortable and easier to move in. He didn’t feel much regret over his shredded clothes.
"The humble manager of this Cheonghakru is overwhelmed with joy to welcome Lord Ma Gwang-ik on this auspicious day."
A middle-aged man in fine silk appeared, bowing deeply. Clearly not an ordinary staff member, he reacted quickly, reflecting the reputation Jeong Yeon-shin had already garnered in Hanzhong.
Perhaps it was due to the boy’s renown for driving out the Youngcheon Sword Demon and the forces of Sim Mu-ryeon, along with his fame from the Gepa Daetjeon. The public seemed to hold him in high esteem.
‘This will be useful later,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought, recalling the documents he had obtained from the slain Zhibu Daein.
These documents contained evidence that the Zhuge Clan Leader had deliberately turned a blind eye to Sim Mu-ryeon’s plundering.
To unseat someone as entrenched as the Zhuge Clan Leader, one needed to muster moral justification, public support, and a minimum level of martial force.
‘The Zhuge Clan Leader’s downfall. That’s my task as Ma Gwang-ik.’
If properly executed, this would result in a monumental achievement.
The Ipwang Fortress Lord granted high-ranking members the authority to carry out tasks at their discretion. Achieving Purple Rank required accumulating numerous meritorious deeds.
Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, who had shared many insights about their journeys, had emphasized that surpassing Ipwang Sinjang Ak Su-rim would require more than ordinary accomplishments.
‘Simply letting this slide would be unforgivable to Tae Yeom-ryong, too.’
The Hwangbo Clan had perished because they exploited the common folk for personal gain.
Jeong Yeon-shin had brought Hwangbo So Ga-ju into his fold. No matter how large the Menghui was, turning a blind eye to the Zhuge Clan’s actions wouldn’t be easy.
At the very least, the Zhuge Clan Leader had to bear responsibility. Such was the will of the new Ma Gwang-ik.
"The young lord of Ipwang Fortress honors us with his presence. We must provide a worthy seat..."
"The top floor will do," Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted the manager.
Though momentarily stunned by Ma Gwang-ik's politeness, the man’s expression quickly turned troubled.
"There is a distinguished guest already present. Even we cannot reveal their identity..."
"I have an appointment with Ak Ye-rim," Jeong Yeon-shin replied, sensing the energy of the young scion of the Ak Clan.
The manager’s face lit up instantly.
"Ah! A match made in heaven, truly!"
"A match made in heaven, huh? That’s... somewhat accurate," a hoarse voice replied, tinged with laughter.
Tae Yeom-ryong seemed to pick up on the strange lilt in the voice as well, narrowing his murky eyes.
"It appears this is your final test, young lord. The Eon Clan’s Fist Lord, they say, wields defensive qi like an impregnable fortress."
Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly without a word.
This was why he didn’t turn down the offer to share a table with a supreme martial master for the first time.
The boy’s sharp eyes saw through many things. Given his unsteady physical state, it was necessary to first assess this formidable figure’s character and capabilities.
Startled by Tae Yeom-ryong’s words, the manager of Cheonghakru led them to the top floor.
“I hope you find it to your liking,” he said before retreating without even glancing back to see their interaction.
This behavior was a stark contrast to his earlier deference—a mark of someone well-versed in the martial world’s dynamics.
The manager understood how trivial an inn could be in a world like this. His retreat was clearly to avoid getting entangled in anything dangerous.
“So, this is what they call the finest in Hanzhong... impressive,” murmured Tae Yeom-ryong.
As he spoke, a woman leaning against the wall in a languid pose greeted Jeong Yeon-shin. Half-reclined, she raised a wine glass casually.
Across from her, Ak Ye-rim sat with her head tilted downward, seemingly embarrassed by the drinking companion she’d been engaging with moments before.
“Ah.”
The strange sigh came from The Fist Lord of the Eon Clan, Eon Hwayeon, her eyes narrowed into a sly smile.
“You’re even more striking than I’d heard. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll turn out in a few years. A talent like you would be wasted being crushed under the Eon Clan’s fist arts.”
“You’ll have your turn on the mat. Tomorrow, that is.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s reply was casual, his tone indifferent, as if her playful words were of no consequence. His lips moved, but his brows remained still, his jet-black eyes carefully observing Eon Hwayeon.
She wore a sleeveless martial robe, revealing the contours of her biceps and triceps. The veins faintly visible beneath her skin pulsed with vibrant internal energy.
Her physique, sculpted entirely differently from the lean build of Youngcheon Sword Demon Baek Seo-goon, left an impression. A martial artist’s body was distinct from that of a swordsman’s.
Eon Hwayeon’s lips curved into a fine arc. Perhaps she’d mastered the art of Maintaining Youthful Elegance.
Although she was rumored to be well past her forties, her face bore no wrinkles, her smile giving her an almost youthful look, like Ak Ye-rim’s sister.
“What are you staring at so intently, little lord of Ipwang Fortress?”
“Not much,” he replied curtly.
For adversaries, short replies were better. Lately, he’d taken to this approach more often.
Eon Hwayeon’s smile deepened. Rather than taking offense, she seemed genuinely amused by the young Ma Gwang-ik’s blunt demeanor.
Her lowered lashes trembled ever so slightly, a ripple of energy that only a supreme master could emanate. It was a subtle wave, one that naturally stoked her competitive spirit.
“Your gaze is rather indecent,” she teased. “You’d best curb any ulterior motives unless you’ve got the skill to look down on me. Not just anyone can become my husband, you see. After all, I might soon become the next head of the clan.”
Her words carried a light-hearted air, much like Tae Yeom-ryong’s teasing remarks.
The next head of the clan?
Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts turned. Just months ago, Sim Mu-ryeon’s Lord had crushed the neck of the Eon Clan’s previous leader. The event had sent shockwaves through the martial world.
It was mentioned alongside the Blade Sect Leader’s assassination of Qingcheng Sect’s head. Even the Ipwang Fortress Command labeled it a Purple Rank incident.
The title Fist Lord of the Eon Clan was more than just a moniker. It was a calculated move by the Pearl Branch of the Eon Clan to preserve their status and influence.
The Eon Clan, one of the Eight Noble Clans, was renowned for their martial arts. Noble clans like theirs often acted as royalty within their regions, wielding enormous influence.
The prestige and power of martial clans often come from symbolic figures—like the Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress, Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
The fall of the Eon Clan’s former leader was widely known. Eon Hwayeon had stepped in to take her place.
At the very least, she was a supreme martial master of the Black Rank. That alone justified his decision to face her directly.
When one reaches the realm of supreme masters, even the flutter of a butterfly’s wings can influence the precision of a sword’s technique.
Just one step away from the Grand Restoration Pill. Eon Hwayeon is the final hurdle.
Meanwhile, Ak Ye-rim glanced back and forth between Eon Hwayeon and Jeong Yeon-shin, her eyes wide with astonishment.
The way the two interacted seemed foreign to her, a dynamic not easily accepted in the righteous martial world.
Especially since Jeong Yeon-shin was so much younger.
If not for the hierarchy established within Ipwang Fortress, he would’ve long been chastised by the elders for this.
This boy was acknowledged by the Namgung Clan... Ak Ye-rim thought, bewildered.
Regardless of her thoughts, the meeting of these two supreme masters was underway.
It was bound to have significant repercussions for the final stages of the Gepa Daetjeon.
Ma Gwang-ik and the Fist Lord of the Eon Clan—this was undoubtedly one of the most pivotal events in Hanzhong at the moment.
Eon Hwayeon, who had been lounging carelessly, fumbled with the tray before finally grabbing an ornate jade bottle.
Her grin was as carefree as that of a drunken reveler, reinforcing the adage that all supreme masters are eccentric in their own way.
“I wouldn’t mind being served by such a handsome boy. Would you pour me a drink?” she asked, extending the bottle toward him.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.
“Isn’t the lady of the Eon Clan a little too carefree? Her words are even more unrestrained than mine.”
“She’s just about your match. It’s fine,” replied Jeong Yeon-shin, calmly.
He approached and took the jade bottle with one hand. Eon Hwayeon’s grin widened as she raised her glass, her chin tilted upward as if daring him to try something.
Clink.
Jeong Yeon-shin silently poured the wine.
At the same time, the Luminous Wheel Qi unraveled from his heart, surging into his palm and through the jade bottle.
Woom.
The Du Kang Wine inside the bottle absorbed the overwhelming qi. Through this exchange, Ma Gwang-ik’s martial energy began testing the opponent.
The serene breeze flowing through the top floor of Cheonghakru carried the atmosphere of a world exclusive to supreme masters.
In the still silence, a faint vibration swept through the autumn air.
For a moment, Eon Hwayeon’s arm trembled ever so slightly, the veins on the back of her hand pulsing as she held her glass.
Jeong Yeon-shin finally broke the silence.
“You are being served by the Young Lord of Ipwang Fortress. Observe proper drinking etiquette.”